The house is still in progress, dry-wall finished today and paint starts on Monday. Little details are starting to take over and creep up and make us frantic and a little anxious about budgets and just being done already.
Worry is a joy stealer – but it’s more than that. It’s costly in so many ways and I’m feeling anxious and don’t want to be.
I put it out there to the whole wide world that I’m looking for a job:
Which feels like exhaling after years of holding my breath. This is something I’ve wanted for a long time. I picture myself being part of a creative and dynamic team who can use my talents and actively incubates dreams. I’m excited to work outside of my own head, outside of our home. I have things to offer and time to spend doing so. The more I talk about it the more real the possibility becomes. Know of an opportunity? Please let me know.
Behind the scenes I’m still writing and am sending out manuscripts of poetry monthly. It feels like forward motion, it feels like trying.
I think the dust has settled of both of my kids going to school full time. I’m not sure I ever thought I’d be here, with this time to myself, or without another baby at home. It’s odd the way things happen, how the chapters of our story continue to narrate the inevitable of aging. This time in my life feels very vulnerable, as if it was time to start again.